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—This is it, Clara, one of those moments.

—What moments?

I actually re-wrote this line after a friend told me a bit of shocking news. “I’m going to be a mom,” she said through teary eyes, “And you know I’m not married. It was a one night stand with an old friend, and when I told him I was pregnant, He told me to get rid of the baby. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to have joy. As long as I can remember, all I’ve ever wanted to be was a mom, but now, having it happen this way, I don’t know how to celebrate the life within me without feeling like I’m glorifying the mistake I’ve made.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever had a conversation like that, but this one left me breathless. I stammered, I tried to speak of the love of God and his ability to work redemption out of the most hopeless cases, but words fell flat. I watched my friend walk away hoping something I said might have found some room in her heart when I suddenly was struck with these words. I reached for my journal and scratched out what were originally the words to the second verse, “We fix our eyes on what we know is true, there is no one more beautiful than you.” For the record, I still believe that, but I needed something more poignant for the conversation I had just had. Just below the crossed out lines I wrote,

“even in our shame grace makes a way through.”

Doesn’t it?

When karma hounds our souls, and past wrongs flicker in our minds like a propaganda reel, we can find sure footing on the forgiveness of God. Joy is always available. We are forever allowed to celebrate in a God who “works all things together for good, for those who love God and who have been called according to his good purpose.” (Romans 8.28) We can find strength for our weak knees declaring with Micah, “Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when i sit in darkness, the LORD will be a light to me.” -Micah 7.8

You can miss me for five minutes a day, and you better do it properly, you better be sad.  I expect my five.  But all the rest of the time, Clara, all the rest of the time, every single second, you just get the hell on with it.